1 She's Gone
by pjstillnoon
Summary: The murder of one of the most important women in Cal's life. He holds it together to investigate. Emily grieves. How hard is it to investigate without Gillian? Will the damage heal or forever be distorted? Can he solve this case before the storm breaks?
1. Chapter 1

**She's Gone.**

_AN: number six in the Dr. Callian writing challenges. _

**Teaser**

Sodden earth and howling wind. Tall oak trees sway violently against their ties. The sky is black. As dark as the suit Cal is wearing. He stands on Astroturf, his hands in his pockets, a vain attempt to keep them warm against the storm as it rages around him. Emily clings to his arm. She cries into his shoulder. She's not enough of an anchor. Cal stares down at the polished black coffin while the rain pours from the heavens, down the back of his collar and all over the casket, making fascinating criss-crossing patterns on the surface that disappear almost as quickly as they are etched. Little droplets bounce off the coffin, as if they don't want to acknowledge the solid reality of the situation either, as if they can't get away fast enough. Cal feels the same way. He is soaked through in less than a minute. Someone belatedly holds an umbrella over his head.

It's cold. The wind is relentless. It keeps many people away. Not that Cal is paying attention to the faces there. He can see _her_ face in his mind, the way she was in life; such a cliché and he sighs. It makes him feel sick. He doesn't know how he is meant to be, how he should act. He thought he should be crying but he isn't. Or maybe he is but the salt on his cheeks is mixed in the freshwater falling from above and he can't tell anymore. It hurts so much, he just can't tell anything about anything anymore.

_Apartment building. Night._

Gillian knocks on an apartment door. She clutches her coat around herself a little tighter and looks around. At the end of the hall a tree branch scrapes a tattoo against the window pane. A warning or an over active imagination? She's clearly uneasy. And it has everything to do with the person that answers the door.

"Thank you for coming," Zoe is polite initially as she holds the door open. They move through to the dining room where Zoe has her case notes spread out all over the table. Gillian shrugs out of her coat while Zoe reaches through the mess for a specific folder. "Take all the time you need," she tells Gillian as she gives her file.

"I'm not promising to find anything in your favour," Gillian warns the other woman as she seats herself, her phone on the surface just in front of her, as if she is expecting a call from someone.

"All I'm asking for is a second opinion. He showed clear signs of..."

Gillian holds up a hand to stop her. With a polite smile she says, "I'll read the file, make up my own mind."

"Sure," Zoe pretends she isn't offended with being interrupted. "Wine?"

"No thank you. I have to drive," Gillian gives another polite smile and she places the folder down in front of her, over her phone. Zoe leaves the room to pour herself a glass of white and returns to her laptop resting across from where Gillian is reading. She sits and sips and peers at Gillian over the screen of her computer. Gillian reads on obliviously and after some time she doubles back through the file to the second page. She reads again and then gives a little shake of her head. "I'm sorry Zoe but while his behaviour _can_ be classed as erratic I would still be inclined to agree with the initial psychiatric assessment. When people typically hear voices that are distressing or encouraging them to do something destructive and your client would more than likely continue to hear them now. In fact, recent thought within the psychiatric community is that hearing voices is not a classification of mental illness at all; even voices that cause distress to the hearer."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Gillian speaks carefully. "That your client is more than likely exaggerating what he experienced, if he experienced hearing distressing voices at all."

"I knew I should have tried someone more objective."

"Excuse me?" Gillian is slightly offended.

"You don't want to see what's there because of our history."

"We don't have a history," Gillian points out with a banal smile.

"Oh come on," Zoe gives a passive aggressive scoff. She sips her wine while they stare at each other, fake smiles plastered over lips. "You can't honestly sit there and tell me there's not any tension between the two of us."

Gillian looks away with amused disbelief. She gathers her purse to leave but Zoe speaks again and her words keep Gillian rooted to the chair.

"Tell me something. Have you two ever...?"

Gillian doesn't ask 'who two?' She asks: "Ever what?" She knows exactly who Zoe's talking about.

"You know. Slept together."

"I'm going to go," Gillian announces.

"So you have? Was that before or after the divorce?"

A sinking feeling washes over Gillian instantly. She still hasn't got up from the table and a part of her thinks maybe it would be a good idea to just get this all out in the open. "Cal and I have never slept together if that's what you want to know," she delivers evenly and directly, looking Zoe in the eye.

"You don't expect me to believe that do you?" Zoe gives a false laugh.

"Actually, because it's the truth, I do," Gillian tells her firmly, but not without a hint of derision. She makes to leave again, this time standing and tucking her chair into place and grabbing her coat. She turns to walk away when Zoe shoots at her: "I've seen the way he looks at you. I've always known."

"Is this why you invited me over?" Gillian turns back to her.

"Why do you think I left him?"

Gillian is clearly stunned. She stands still for a moment and they watch each other again, Zoe confident, Gillian looking as though she has walked into the middle of a shit fight. "This isn't even about Gianni anymore." Probably stating the obvious, but at least saying it aloud means there's no room for confusion.

"No, we were talking about you and Cal."

"No we weren't," Gillian tells her firmly. She turns for the door again.

"If Cal asked you to take a look at the case file would you have given him the same answer? I mean, you'd do anything to please him."

Gillian comes back into the room. "Why are you being so antagonistic about this?"

"Just thought we should finally clear the air, woman to woman."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Oh please, I don't have to be drunk to have it out with you."

Gillian gives a little sigh. "I'm leaving."

"Does that mean you really would do anything to please him?"

It was irrational for her to stay. And it made her look weak to keep walking back into the proverbial lion's den but there was something in the way Zoe was talking to her this evening that has gotten under Gillian's skin. She should continue to walk away and out the front door but, no, she turns back once again. "Cal and I have a professional business relationship only. He respects my professional opinion and I respect his."

"Cal's not the hero you paint him to be."

"I'm aware of Cal's faults," Gillian replies haughtily. And this time she does find the strength to leave.

She even makes it to the front door and has it open before Zoe calls out: "What about the skeletons in his closet?"

"I know all about his skeletons," Gillian yells back. "Deal with your demons Zoe! Before they choke you to death."

**Opening credits**


	2. Chapter 2

**Act One**

Chaos. Swirling lights, blue and red. A howling wind. A million people, crime scene tape. Really? Already? That couldn't mean anything good. Cal hurries. His knees are weak. His stomach is churning. Bad feelings course through his veins. Two words echo through his mind: _It's Mom_. He hadn't even made it inside his house and now he was at her apartment and he knew, he just _knew_, that something awful has happened. What he misses is Gillian's car parked out the front of the building. He powers under the yellow tape and ignores the call of an officer's attempt to stop him. Strong hands catch him on the front steps asking who the hell he is.

"That's my daughta in there," he shoots back and wrenches his arm free, his sense of panic magnifying under the resistance of the cop. He gets two feet inside before the sight of Gillian, the front of her shirt saturated in blood, stops him still. Bile rises in the back of his throat. She looks over at him calmly and it is then that he notices her hands are behind her back, cuffed, a police officer on each side of her is holding on to each of her arms as if she might suddenly run.

"Let's go," they start to usher her out.

"What's goin' on?" Cal asks alarmed. His panic washes over him in a dizzying wave of hot and cold that leaves him lightheaded.

"Lawyer," Gillian shoots at Cal as she is led past them. The sick stench if iron is heavy on the air as she brushes past. And then she is gone into the cold atmosphere of an impending storm.

Cal turns back to the interior of the house. Portable spot lights are being set up at various key locations; an investigation already forming. He's stunned and still has no clear answer. "Em!" He calls out from where he stands.

"Dad?" Her returning voice is weak but he can tell the direction. He turns to his right, to the living room and finds her on the couch, a plain clothes police officer sitting next to her, and yet another in uniform is standing over her.

Cal's first reaction is, "Don't say a word!" He comes into the room quickly and sits next to his little girl. Her eyes are bloodshot and she is still crying; she cries harder when she sees him and falls against his shoulder. His hands come up immediately to hold her and comfort her, to soothe away her pain. With each passing moment he suspects the absolute worse. He doesn't really need someone to confirm it for him. He knows. There is no blood on Emily.

"Mr Lightman?" Officer number one asks him.

"Doctor Lightman," Cal corrects.

"I'm Detective Miller," he introduces himself. Cal is far too suspicious to offer to shake his hand. It's the first time since his mother's death he finds himself relatively speechless. "I'm very sorry for you loss Doctor Lightman."

"So she's gone then?" Cal asks, trying to be tactful for the sake of his daughter.

Miller looks unsure. "Oh. I thought someone would have told you."

"You thought wrong," Cal finds enough of a reserve to at least manage a dirty tone.

"Ms Landau has been killed."

Emily's fingers tighten against Cal's arms.

Miller's tone lowers slightly, softens out so the next blow isn't a complete sucker punch to the guts. "Murdered."

_Establishing shot: night. Police station._

Silence. The clunking of metal locks and then more eerie silence. Cal walks down a linoleum lined hallway, boots making a clapping sound, hands shoved deep in his pockets. On the right are various cells and he thinks in a million years he never would have imagined himself down here right now visiting Gillian Foster in one of them. It's a horrific hour of the morning and leaving Emily alone in the car makes him feel nervous; as if there is any need. The police believe they have their killer right there in the cell at the end of the row. Cal doesn't know what to think; his spidey senses bailed on him the moment he got that phone call.

"All right?" Cal announces his presence.

Gillian's head shoots up from where it was resting, so low it was almost between her knees and she shows him a clear surprise expression. His spidey senses may have checked out but he could still read faces. She is wearing bright orange scrubs now. She gets up and he can see she has a smear of blood on her neck. Zoe's blood. He feels sick.

"Did you call the lawyer?"

"Yeah," Cal confirms. "On his way. They talk to you yet?"

"Tried to. I'm not talking without a lawyer."

"Got somethin' to hide?"

Gillian's eyes narrow slightly. "What does that mean?"

Cal gives a nonchalant shrug. "Had Torres talk to the neighbours."

"Already?"

"Said they overheard a massive argument between you and Zoe." And somewhere in the back of his mind Cal knows this is a bad idea, to have this conversation now. But then he wants answers, and when has anything ever stood in the way of that?

"Cal," Gillian shakes her head.

"Said they heard yelling, a door slam. Then you leave. Not five minutes later you're back. And the next thing they know, there are coppas showing up and an ambulance." It feels much better now that it's out. He watches her face like a hawk, every line all ready committed to memory. What he wants to see is her eyes. Her face has lied to him before but never her eyes. The concern he saw for all those years, that had not been misplaced, just the reasoning behind it.

"What are you asking me?" Gillian asks tersely.

"Why don't you tell me?" Cal asks antagonistically. Surely she can work it out. She's smart. He never thought her calculating until now.

"Cal," she lowers her voice. "I was the one who called nine-one-one."

"Change of heart," Cal supplies. He hasn't openly accused her and she's not denying it either.

Gillian gives a scoff, but it's not a confident one and Cal has never wished so hard in his life to be able to read her, properly read her. He knows her so well he has too much information to sift through all at once. "Did she send you down here to get a confession out of me?" Now that is a clear accusation. She turns away from him so he can't read her face anymore and he realises she knows exactly what he's up to. She knows him too well too. "What are you doing here Cal? Are you bailing me out?"

Cal scuffs a toe against the floor. "Look at me."

"I'm not doing this with you."

"Well tough shit Gill. I'm here. You're sure as hell not going anywhere. Let's have it then. I wanna hear your side of the story." He can see her back visibly stiffen even though the shirt she is wearing, in that offensive orange, hangs off her slim frame.

She turns back to him and he can see she is angry. Her eyes flash. She takes a step forward, probably to let him see just how pissed off she really is. "I. Am. _Not_. Doing. This. With. You." She repeats, biting out each word.

"The police have you practically standing over the body. The warm blood still dripping off your hands!"

"Then where's the knife?" Gillian shoots back at him.

"That's a great question! Where is the knife?" He steps forward hungrily, waiting for her to _tell_ him something.

She opens her mouth to retort and then stops abruptly. She calms herself down, her facial muscles relax again. "I'm not doing this with you Cal," she tells him again and he decides the colour of those scrubs is obnoxious orange. "I'm not talking until the lawyer gets here."

"She's gone Gillian. I think I deserve some answers."

"I think I deserve a bit of loyalty."

"Loyalty?" Cal scoffs this time and it's such a negative response he even makes himself feel sick doing it. "You want loyalty? Where was your loyalty to Emily?"

"I can't believe!" She starts again and stops abruptly. "Leave. Now. Immediately. Go home. Be with Emily. I don't want you here."

Cal glares. He's running out of ways of tripping her up. Gillian glares back, defiant as all hell. But then, something that makes him hesitate... a flicker of her cheek muscle, a down turning of her eyes. She's hurt. He wants to stay angry at her, he really does. But she's right. He should be with Emily. She's still waiting for him after all and well... he is having a very, very hard time getting his head around the fact that Gillian stabbed his ex-wife three times so she bled out on her bedroom floor in a matter of minutes.

Cal turns away abruptly and marches back down the hallway the way he came. His hands don't seem to be able to get warm in his pockets. Wallowski is waiting for him at the end of the green linoleum mile. She unlocks the door for him to step back through. "Well?" she asks one simple word that pounds through Cal's mind. He wants her to shut up. He wants everyone to shut up and for all of this to go away.

"Dad?"

'_Oh shit_,' he turns and finds Emily sitting, waiting for him. Her doe eyes are huge and red and she fidgets with her sleeve. How much of that had she just heard? Wallowski had been watching a small monitor to the side of the room. He knew the cell at the end had a microphone. They hadn't asked him to go and talk to Gillian, Wallowski had done him a favour letting him talk to Gillian. But that didn't mean she wasn't interested to hear what Gillian had to say for herself.

"Is Gillian coming home with us?" Emily asks.

"No luv," Cal holds out his arm to indicate they should leave. "She needs to talk to the cops about what happened."

"I can't believe you accused her..." Emily starts.

"I didn't accuse her of anything."

"But you may as well have!" Emily exclaimed. "You know she didn't do this."

Cal wanted to agree but the truth was, he knew as well as every officer in the precinct, that pushed far enough, anyone was capable of anything.

_Establishing shot: Cal's house. Morning._

The loud call of birds in the tree by the window. A hazy grey filtering through the quiet room. The pre-dawn of a new day and for a second Cal is relieved to realise the shit that unfolded four hours ago was a dream but he wakes further and finds Emily in his bed and he remembers that she spent the rest of the night crying herself to sleep. Cal rolls out of bed carefully. He hunts around the room for his phone and can't find it. He sneaks downstairs and it's on the kitchen counter. "Torres, I need you to come over here right away."

"I'm on my way to the office. Apparently Doctor Foster's interview footage has been sent over."

"Here. Now," Cal tells her abruptly. He hangs up. He scrawls a note for Emily, pulls a sports coat from over the back of a chair, he tugs his boots on as he grabs his car keys from the pile of mess on the kitchen counter and is out the door.

Cal pulls up at the Lightman Group as his phone rings again. The sky is low and dark, the wind cold as he makes his way inside. It's just a matter of time before the impending storm explodes over him. "What?" He answers.

"I just got here and you're not here," Torres speaks as though she doesn't want to be overheard.

"Just wait there," Cal tells her. He can hear another voice in the background, Emily probably. She should have stayed asleep, he thinks, because she'll need to rest. Grieving is a tiring business. He shoves his own out of his head. Not yet. It wasn't time for that yet.

"Dad. Where are you?"

"I'm at work luv," Cal's tone is immediately softer.

"I'll come in."

"No, you stay at home. I need you to stay at home."

"With a babysitter?"

Cal loves that she is astute. And he would have smiled if he hadn't forgotten how to. "Just want to make sure you're all right luv," Cal uses his soft 'Dad' voice. His 'do Daddy a favour like a good girl' voice.

"Has Gillian been arrested?"

Cal's stomach drops out. He doesn't know and he hasn't cared to find out. Loyalty. So much for him having any. He supposes she was arrested but the question now was whether she had been or would be charged.

"Don't worry about that kind of thing luv. I'll call you later all right?" He hangs up the phone and pulls on the door to the sets of offices that are his. He's immediately bombarded with questions. There are rumours about Zoe's murder and Gillian's arrest. He confirms the first and ignores the last and makes his way to his office. He closes the door and it's blissfully still in there. He goes to his computer and brings up the security feed. He can see Loker is in his lab, tapping a pencil nervously against his desk. The younger man checks his watch and then looks to the door and the checks his phone. Cal closes the footage down and braves the rough battering sea of people again, his next destination determinedly in mind.

Cal bursts into the computer lab and startles Loker. "Get out," Cal tells the two other employees in the room, even holding the door open for them so they get the point. They scuttle away like hermit crabs disturbed on a beach.

"Ah Torres isn't in yet," Loker starts.

"She's on something else," Cal tells him. "The footage is here?"

"Uh yeah," Loker doesn't have to ask what footage. "Um, I'm really sorry about Zoe."

Cal waves him off impatiently. He still doesn't have time to deal with that right now. "Where is it then?" He gestures to the large screen in front of him. He can hear Loker tap the keys to bring up the first image of Foster on the screen. Cal's stomach churns. She still has that smudge of blood on her neck. The camera is focused tightly on her face only, as if it were designed for Cal to scrutinise later.

"Pause it," Cal instructs before the video even starts to roll. He stares up at the image of Gillian. She looks tired. The time stamp indicates its one forty-seven in the morning before they got around to questioning her. Her blue eyes seem dark in the lighting, her hair, with the small flecks of grey at her temples that she attempts to hide by colouring it, is ruffled. Cal feels lightheaded. He knows her so well and yet how is it that apparently he doesn't know her at all?

"She looks scared," Loker annoyingly points out. It's annoying because Cal didn't see it first. But he looks now and yes, her eyes are slightly widened and her lips are drawn ever so slightly tightly so that anyone off the street looking at her would think she was composed.

"Play it," Cal demands and the image suddenly came to life. Gillian straightens her shoulders slightly onscreen, steeling herself. Now that he knew what he was looking at it was so much easier to _see_ the vulnerability all the time. It was _right there_ all along. He should have been there for her. Under any other circumstances he would have been right there with her.

"So," Miller begins. "Why did you do it? Did Ms Landau find out about you and Doctor Lightman?"

Gillian looks bemused. Cal almost roots for her; she played her response perfectly. "What about myself and Doctor Lightman do you mean exactly?"

Classic deflection. Cal would have jumped on that in a heartbeat.

"You two," Miller sounds knowing but Cal can't see his face. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Unfortunately Detective I don't. I came to talk about the events of the previous evening. I would rather we discuss that." Still calm, so very cool and definitely collected.

"All right," Miller appears to have shifted some papers off screen. Gillian waits patiently but Cal can see that now she's not talking, she looks slightly worried again. She definitely has something to hide even without showing guilt markers. "Why don't you tell me what you and Ms Landau argued about last night?"

Gillian straightens her shoulders again. "We argued about a professional opinion on a case I was helping her with."

"What case would this be?"

"The Gianni appeal."

"Gianni," Miller muses. Next to Gillian, Mr Stevens, their lawyer, looks bored out of his mind. Or maybe he's half asleep. It is two o'clock in the morning at the time of recording after all. "I murdered my wife by setting her on fire Gianni?"

'_Careful_,' Cal thinks. Miller's tone is dangerous. He wishes he was there in real time to warn Gillian.

"Yes, that Gianni," Gillian agrees. She's giving very little away to Miller. Cal also wishes he was there to do the interrogation. He would have skipped past all this bullshit and cut to the chase, cut to the important questions.

Wait, Gianni?

"I was helping Zoe with a psychiatric assessment."

"And why would you do that?" Miller is antagonistic. "From all accounts you don't get along with Ms Landau."

Cal's stunned. They were working together? Why didn't Gillian tell him that?

"Zoe and I have had differing opinions on occasion," Gillian responds lightly.

"Why did you return to the scene of the crime?" Miller asks.

"If you're asking me why I went back to Zoe's apartment after I had left, it was because I realised I had left my phone." She took a steadying breath. "I had no inclination at the time that it was a crime scene."

"Why don't you talk me through that then?" Miller jabs. Gillian ducks. Mr Stevens sits there as chaos rages around him, like he's in the eye of the storm. Cal makes a mental note to sack the services of his firm as soon as he's done with this mess.

Gillian explains she had received a phone call from Zoe wanting a second opinion on the psychiatric state of Mr Gianni. Gillian headed over there on her way home from the office. She reviewed the files and gave Zoe her opinion. She was there for two hours. Zoe didn't agree with all her findings; they debated back and forth for a while. Gillian decided she was going to leave because it was late. She speaks so calmly but Cal can see the worry around her eyes. She fidgets slightly with a finger. But he can't tell if she is lying yet. Loker doesn't say a word. Maybe Cal should have sent Loker to babysit and got his natural back here. She had no trouble reading Gillian, or Cal for that matter.

"You argued," Miller prompted off screen.

"We had a professional disagreement."

"I've got neighbours saying you had a screaming match."

Cal finds himself leaning in to the screen. Gillian folds her hands carefully. "We may have raised our voices but I certainly don't recall screaming."

Guilt.

Cal feels sick. There it was. The guilt he has been waiting for.

"What did you argue about?"

"I've already told you. The case."

"I find it hard to believe Ms Foster that you could have such a heated discussion over an appeal."

'_You don't know Zoe_,' Cal thinks.

"Doctor Foster," Gillian asserts and Cal feels she has control of the interview now. "What Zoe wanted was a magic 'out' for her client and I wasn't willing to play along with that."

"You expect me to believe you'd happily get together with your business partner's ex-wife to help her on a case?"

"She asked for my help."

"And you drove on over?"

"Yes."

"Why you? Why not another shrink?"

"How many shrinks do you know who would answer the call of a criminal defence attorney at ten o'clock at night regarding the Gianni case?"

"Why don't you answer that for me?"

"Because I would want to help anyone who wasn't fully in control of their mental faculties; convicted murderer or not."

"She's not lying," Loker speaks up.

Cal doesn't answer. He can see she isn't and he knew she wasn't. But there is still the guilt from earlier and the fact that Gillian is an emotional blind spot for him. He wants to believe, but he can't be sure. And if it wasn't Gillian, then who the hell was it?

Miller goes for another round of questioning about Zoe and Gillian arguing. Cal being in the middle between two strong women. He asks Gillian if she is sleeping with Cal; jealous new lover wanting to get rid of the old. Gillian politely tells him 'no she isn't'. He asks her to finish the rest of the story, about how she had left and come back allegedly for her phone. Gillian's eyes get distant as she talks about knocking on the door, getting no response, hearing the back door slam. She tried the handle and the door came open. The apartment was just as she had left it no more than fifteen minutes before. Except when she called out to Zoe she got no response and so worried, she moved through the house and found the backdoor open, the lock hanging loosely so that it wouldn't stay closed anymore, and then Zoe in her bedroom.

"There was so much blood, everywhere." Cal listens to Gillian's voice start to strain with the memory. "I called nine-one-one and then I tried to put pressure on the wounds. I checked for a pulse but I couldn't find one."

Cal's heart actually broke for her a little. He wanted to slap the no-good lawyer, who was supposed to be there looking out for her interests (not that it seemed like she needed him) and give her a hug.

"She's definitely not lying," Loker speaks up again.

"But she's still hiding something," Cal points out. He hears the noise of the door behind him. He turns to find Gillian turning to walk away again.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: probably should have made this clear at the start, its S3 but AU (so Claire never happened). Also, thanks so much for you positive feedback! It's nice to see some new names!_

**Act Two**

_Continued..._

"Get those case files from Zoe's place. We'll start with Mr Gianni," Cal tells Loker hurriedly. He runs down the hall to Gillian's office. She is just rounding her desk as he comes in.

She looks up at him neutrally and Cal realises he doesn't know what he's going to say to her.

"Did that answer all of your questions?" She asks haughtily.

Cal approaches her desk. She's showered and changed and he figures she must have gone home. He wants to ask her when she was released from custody. He figures if she had been charged she wouldn't be standing in front of him right now. "I've got one more."

"Go ahead," she gestures.

"You showed guilt." He feels bad for accusing, but wouldn't she understand? She is his best friend. Surely she would forgive him for doing this? For disbelieving her.

Gillian's expression hardens. "Of course I feel guilty Cal. If I had come back just half a minute sooner she might not be dead right now."

"Loker's going to head over to Zoe's house to get her case files."

"Oh so you're going to go with innocent until proven guilty?" Gillian tilts her head in a way that Cal identifies as a challenge.

He ignores the jibe. "You make a start on our recent case files. See if anything pops."

Gillian gives him a stoic stare and he can see quite clearly that's she's angry. And that she will probably ignore his direction. He waits her out.

"And what are you going to do?"

_Establishing shot: Gillian's apartment. Day._

A phone ringing in an empty house. A sudden burst of sunlight outside casts a bright white triangle on the floor while the sounds of the storm getting closer ghost around the house. The click of an answering machine picking up. Foster's voice: "This is Doctor Foster. I can't answer the phone so leave me a message with your number and I'll call you back as soon as I can."

"Doctor Foster. You're next."

_Establishing shot: Day. Police precinct; the same as the night before._

"I can't tell you that."

"Come on Shaz, don't let me down now," Cal half pouts.

"I really can't get in to this with you," she hisses at him. "Not only is it an open murder investigation but you are directly linked to the victim and the suspect. This is just one line I'm not willing to cross."

"Just tell me you found the murder weapon." Cal watches her eyebrows rise slightly. "Oh so you haven't? Which means the killer took it with them."

"Or hid it somewhere in the house."

Which meant Gillian could have hidden it somewhere in the house.

"You haven't gone through the apartment yet?" Cal teases. "Cos it's such a huge apartment there must be so many rooms to check." Wallowski turns on him abruptly. She's angry too. Now all he has to do was piss Emily off and he'd be three for four... oh no wait, he had already done that this morning. "You think she would have left some pretty big bloodied handprints if she'd stashed it in the house."

"Yes we've searched the apartment. The knife wasn't there."

"Still think Gill's dirty for it?"

"I don't know what to think," Wallowski lowers her voice. "I'm not even on this case."

"And yet you know so much about it." Cal leans in closer to her. "My ex-wife has just been murdered and they're accusing my business partner of doing it. I don't know about you, but it takes an awful lot of strength to jam a knife through someone's ribs and organs, rip it out and plunge it back in there. Do you really think Gillian's capable of that?"

Cal wonders then if he's made up his mind. Or is it just another act put on to get what he wants?

"You and I both know well enough that people are capable of just about anything when they're in the kill zone."

"The kill zone?" Cal asks shocked. "You get that from a video game?"

"Why don't you go and bug Miller for answers?" Wallowski suggests.

"That big softie?" Cal asks. "He doesn't know his ass from a donut. Now," Cal leans in close to her again. "You need me to play the card about my seventeen year old daughter wondering who ripped her mother away from her just as she was reaching the prime of her life?"

Wallowski can't take the heat of his gaze and turns her head. "How about I give you a call when the autopsy and forensic results come in?"

"Perfect darling."

Cal strides for the door and steps outside. The brilliant sunshine of just a moment ago is replaced once again with heavy black clouds. A cold wind grips him and shakes him out of the eye of the storm again. The light teasing he threw at the Detective comes back to haunt him immediately. How could he even joke with all of this? The swirling clouds above mirror the churning of his stomach. He staggers down the stairs and to his car. Inside it he stops to take several deep breaths. There are tears in his eyes and he fights them heavily. He can't lose it just yet. Not now. He needs to find out what happened.

_Establishing shot: Lightman Group. Day._

"Ria and I are going through both sets of case files," Loker reports.

"What's Torres doing here?" Cal asks as he stalks his way to his office.

"Uh she showed up and started helping."

"Well get back to it," Cal shoos him. Before he enters his office he can see Gillian in hers. She appears to be working on something on her desk top. She has a pen in her hand and even though it stills like she knows he's watching her, she doesn't look up. Cal pushes his office door open and starts to strip his pea coat off. Emily gets up from the couch across the room. She's crying, or has been crying. Either way her eyes are red and she sniffles and she has a pathetic wad of tissues in one hand. "All right darling?" Cal asks her gently and approaches.

They meet in the middle of the room and hug. Cal holds on to her tightly, rocking her back and forth. Trying to comfort her. Trying. He is way out of his league with this. He needs someone soft and motherly. His first thought is to call for Gillian but his heart constricts and he's back to wondering what he's going to do. With Em. About Gill. This entire case. What he needs are some frigging answers.

Cal drags Emily back to the couch and sits down with her still pressed into his embrace. "What are you doing here luv?"

"Did you really think I was just going to sit at home by myself?" Emily asks him, her voice watery.

Cal knows leaving was the wrong thing to do. Leaving her with Torres was probably worse. "I'm feeling lost luv," Cal admits to her. "I don't want you here right now..."

"You're investigating?"

"Unofficially."

"What does that mean?"

"The police haven't officially asked me to get involved."

"But you're going to find out what happened anyway right?"

"Of course darling. Of course I am." He smoothes her hair.

Emily hugs him a little tighter. "Good."

Cal kisses the top of her head. "Want to hang out here today?"

Emily nods her answer against his chest.

_Lightman Group lab. Day._

"_You're next."_

"Again," Cal requests gruffly. The voice makes him feel hot and cold at the same time. Loker hits some keys and the message plays again. "How did you get this?" Cal asks him. "Never mind. I don't care. What was the time stamp?"

"Ten oh three," Loker responds.

"Yesterday."

"Yesterday," Loker confirms.

"Right so he rang her at home and threatened her during the day while she was at work." Cal spins to Ria. "Anything on her office voice mail? Cell phone?"

"The police have those tapes."

"So go and get them from the police," Cal spells it out like she is two. "Loker managed." Cal doesn't miss the subtle glare she shoots in Loker's direction. She grabs her jacket and heads out of the lab. Cal makes Loker play the threat again. The voice is obviously male. Local accent. He sounds like he's breathing heavily, like he has been running. But he doesn't say enough for Cal to be able to tell anything more than that. It's frustrating and the more time Cal spends in the lab listening to the damn recording the more agitated he gets. What he needs is his voice expert. But he's not sure if he's talking to her right now. Or worse, if she's even talking to him.

_Gillian's office. Evening._

A knock. Gillian raises her head. Emily is pulling open the door. "Hey," Gillian gets to her feet and then hesitates. Did Cal know she was here right now? And how is Emily feeling about all of this. Which is code for: did Emily blame Gillian as much as Cal did right now?

"Are you busy?"

"Of course not," Gillian gestures to the room for Emily to sit. She can choose whether she sits opposite Gillian's desk or across the room on the couch. Emily picks the couches and Gillian grabs the tissues off her desk as they move to sit.

"I just couldn't take sitting alone in Dad's office anymore."

"Well I'm always up for company," Gillian offers with careful pleasantness. She doesn't want to come across as too chipper and uncaring. And she's currently the only person in her office. Emily sits and Gillian perches. She sets the tissues on the cushion between them. The she wonders what she should say or whether she should just leave Emily to sit with her own thoughts.

"Dad's really screwing this up."

"Oh?" Gillian asks.

"He's got it all wrong if he thinks you killed Mom."

"You don't agree with him?" Gillian asks carefully.

"You would never do that," Emily responds looking Gillian in the eye. "I can't believe he would even think you would."

Gillian agrees in her head but she just reaches out to pat Emily's knee. Emily was going to need Cal. It wouldn't do her good to be mad at him right now.

"He'll figure that out right? He'll find the right guy?"

"Of course he will," Gillian assures without thinking. But she's not sure what's going on because she's kept her distance today. She's tried to stay out of the way. Until there was another strong suspect she was pretty sure her involvement would cloud the investigation. As much as she yearned to be in the lab right now going over footage and, as Loker has informed her by internal messages, a series of threats left on Zoe's home and office voice mail, it was better that she stayed out of it.

For now anyway.

_Lab. Evening._

"This is the second police interview," Loker plays the video up on the big screen without the sound on. Mr Gianni fills the screen as he fakes sincerity. How could Zoe deal with these scumbags on a daily basis? Everyone was entitled to a defence but really? She was doing almost the exact opposite to what Cal did. Had been.

The video suddenly freezes. "Hey Em," Loker says awkwardly.

Cal turns in his chair. The door of the lab is closing behind Emily as she stands there awkwardly, tugging on her sleeves. "All right darling?" Cal gets up and goes to her.

"Can we go home? I've had enough of being here."

"Uh," Cal hesitates because there is so much more to do and they've got not real leads to go on. Aside from the threatening messages, they don't have _anything_ to go on. "Sweetheart," he approaches her. "Can you give me five more minutes?"

_Establishing shot: The Lightman Group. Night._

A darkened corridor. _The Lightman Group_ is lit up on its wall. The hallways are dim. Emily sleeps on the couch in Cal's office while he goes over the footage of Gillian's interview for the thousand and first time at his desk. He's wearing headphones. The short, echoing ring of an incoming call at Anna's desk and the immediate click of an answering machine picking it up. Anna's voice: "Welcome to the Lightman Group. Please leave a message with your name and number and we'll give you a call back a soon as possible."

"This is a message for Doctor Foster," a breathy male voice drawls. "You're next."


	4. Chapter 4

**Act Three**

Gillian unlocks her front door. The bag in her hand is heavy and she struggles to pull her key free again. She takes the food to the kitchen immediately and drops it to the bench. She adds her keys and purse to the pile and kicks off her shoes. She strips off her saturated coat and takes it back to the front door where she hangs it; underneath there are large damp patches on her cardigan and jersey. As she walks past the phone for the second time she can see the red message light blinking. She keeps going, ignoring it for now. She is going to eat first and have a glass of wine in her PJ's before responding to whoever that was.

Gillian turns on more lights as she makes her way through the apartment. The sound of rain is so loud on the roof she takes a second to look out the kitchen window at the torrential downpour. Her hair drips weak droplets down her neck and she shivers. A sudden gust of wind hurls water at the window making the pain rattle as the glass trembles under the onslaught. Actually, she might take a quick shower before she eats. So she can snuggle on the couch with food and good wine and hopefully some trash to keep her entertained for an hour or so. She reaches into the shower cubicle and turns the water on. She stands with her hand under the spray for a moment as she thinks back on the day, or more specifically, Cal that day. His eyes. Scrutinising and judging her. She shakes her head slightly but that doesn't help to dislodge the image of him standing there...

She goes back to her bedroom to undress and stars with her shirt first. She gets as far as the second button before movement in the mirror opposite where she's undressing catches her eye. She looks up to find a tall man coming up behind her. He grabs her before she can even register the shock. Only her heart reacts. It hammers immediately. But the rest of her is frozen and then there's a searing hot pain in her shoulder and she logically knows what has happened but somehow can't comprehend it. She gives what she figures is a strangled cry but feels more like a strangled breath. The man whips his head around suddenly. His hands stay on her as her legs slowly give way and she crumbles to the floor. She doesn't see him leave, just hears his heavy footsteps on the carpet as he runs.

The searing hot pain stops Gillian from moving at all. She's sure she hasn't taken a breath in an eternity. She sucks one in and the pain worsens so her vision narrows and gets darker at the edges. She feels cold and yet she's aware of a warmth spreading down her back. A clear thought bubbles to the surface. She's in trouble. Panic grips her for a second because she can't move and she can't save herself. It doesn't help that she's all ready breathless and every cubic millimetre of air she manages to suck into her body only fans the flames in her back. Her lung, she figures, her lung must not be working. He must have nicked her lung somehow with the blade. She remembers now the flash of polished steel. How come she didn't react when she saw it? That's so stupid of her. Her back gets warmer and her vision swims and she knows if she doesn't bleed to death right now in agony she's going to black out because she can't fucking breathe!

Gillian tries to move. To sit up. To maybe see the damage. There's a good chance she's over reacting. But every pull of her muscles sends paralysing pain ricocheting through her and she gags on how badly the fire burns. Her skin is blistering; she chokes on the sensation. As she turns her head she can see the shadow of feet again and her body convulses with a new panic; a sickening desire to get away from him. She turns her head and she can see his eyes and she knows there's something wrong with them even as he came fully into view in the mirror. No hands reach for her this time even though she's just as exposed now as she was when he was actually in the room. Her vision finally does cloud over and she can see his eyes so clearly.

Her back is so hot now she can't tell where the pain is coming from. She's sure she's periodically losing consciousness. Time seems to stretch out forever. She's waiting for him to come back. She scared and she's panicking and she can't breathe. She keeps gulping in air she can't feel anymore and she's so very aware of her heart beating out through the hole in her back. She knows she's going to die there. She's going to bleed out into her bedroom carpet just like Zoe did a mere twenty four hours before. She thinks why? And she thinks why me? And she thinks if she just reached for the phone on her bedside table she could save herself. If only she could reach the phone.

_Establishing shot: The Lightman Group. Night._

"Em?" Cal shakes her shoulder roughly. "I have to go sweetheart. It's an emergency. You stay here. I'm going to lock the doors. It's safer for you to stay here. Promise me!"

"All right," Emily blurts out, her voice high pitched with fear and panic. Her eyes are wide but Cal knows she got the message.

"Call Torres and get her back here," Cal shouts as he races out the door again. He punches in the security code to lock the doors and sound an external alarm if anyone breaks the connection. He turns and is confronted with an almost sheer wall of water. His head swims and he has to hold on to the edge of the building. He hasn't eaten. Shit. He better not lose it on the way. Not now. He gathers himself and runs to his car.

Cal pulls up outside of Gillian's place and hurries out of the car, splashing through the river of her driveway. He races across the lawn in a minute flat and is saturated in half that time. He sees lights on inside her apartment. "Gill!" He bangs on her door. His phone is in his hand and he can hear hers ringing on the other side of the door; he's been ringing it since he left the office building.

"Gill!" He calls louder. Who gives a toss if her neighbours also get disturbed? Cal bangs again, keeps up a repetitive knocking until he's sure enough time has gone by for her to get to the door even if she had been in the loo. He tries the handle and finds it locked. So he jams his elbow into the plate of glass near the lock and then sticks his hand through to reach the catch. It's far too easy to break into her home. The deadbolt isn't in place.

"Gillian!" Cal calls out again quickly eyeballing the living room on his way past. "Gill! Where are you darling?" The kitchen is empty but Cal can see her dinner on the counter, purse and car keys and a set of muddied boot prints. He heads for her bedroom immediately. She's lying on the ground in the biggest puddle of blood Cal has ever seen. Panic makes his balls creep up inside him. "Shit Gill," he's at her side in less than a second. "Gill," he presses fingers against the pulse in her throat and her eyes flutter open in fear. Her hands grip his arms as he leans over her. "It's all right, I've got you. I've got you." He brings his phone up to his face and dials with shaky fingers. He sets the phone on the ground beside him and listens to it ring. Then he rips her shirt open and he's too busy searching for a wound to notice how beautiful her breasts are.

"Where are you bleeding sweetheart?" Cal asks her gently. He doesn't want to manhandle her around. Gillian doesn't answer him, just stares up at him.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance," Cal starts to explain. He lifts Gillian gently to one side to check her back. It's her right side that has a gash several inches long and oozing blood so black Cal is nauseated. "My friend has been stabbed in the back." He swallows hard. He should never have doubted her. Never. What was he thinking?

The operator asks Cal for the address and he gives it without thinking. All the while Gillian stares up at him, her hands gripping on to his arms weakly as he moves. He reaches over and tugs the sheet off of her bed, wrenching enough down to the ground to wad up behind her. He applies pressure, ignoring the fact that there is blood all over his hands and he's also kneeling in it and his heart is going a billion miles an hour.

The operator suggests Cal apply pressure to the wound and gives him an ETA on the ambulance. The woman on the other end of the phone asks for his name and for Gillian's name. She asks if Gillian is still breathing, if she is still conscious and how long she's been bleeding for. Gillian starts to choke and blood starts to pool up between her lips and spills down her cheek along with tears she's silently crying. "Stay with me," Cal murmurs to her and brushes a hand along her hairline, smearing a path of red. "You hear me? You stay with me. I can't lose you too!"

"Sir the paramedics should be arriving now," the operator continues to talk in a calm tone of voice and Cal knows that's purely so he's not left alone.

"Sir!" A male voice calls out. "We're paramedics!"

"In here!" Cal yells back. He turns to Gillian. "All right. They're here now all right?" He tries to sound encouraging but what he wants to do is scoop her up into his arms and hug her tightly while trying not to think it might be the last thing they do together.

Two men bustle into the room. They ask Cal to move out of the way, he does so reluctantly. They turn Gillian onto her side and use a pressure bandage against her back. The other checks her pupils. "Not responsive."

"What?" Cal asks. "She was just there."

The two men quickly turn her over onto her back. One of them presses two fingers in tightly against Gillian's throat and Cal can see she's staring blankly now. His stomach screws itself up into a ball and jams itself into his throat. When the police arrive a second later he can't respond to let them know where they are. All he can see is Gillian's limp body as the paramedics straighten her head and hold it steady and stick a tube down her throat. They work together without many words, pausing only briefly to note there's blood in her airway; one reaches for a bag, the other starts compressions on her chest.

'_Oh god_,' Cal thinks while they work. That's all he can think, '_oh god, oh god, oh god_.'

The paramedics periodically check for a pulse and after a minute they stop and go back to their usual routine. Cal's so relieved he's not sure he's got control of his bladder. His legs are shaking and he can suddenly hear the cop next to him updating someone on the situation through his radio. The hospital? Other cops?

"Let's get her out of here," one of the paramedics says to the other. Cal is struck that they look alike. They move quickly from that moment. One of them straps Gillian into a neck brace, to keep her intubation tube still when they move her, while the other continues to gently squeeze the air bag in a steady rhythm. The cop helps to position a body board near her and they unceremoniously drag her across to it. Her eyes are closed now and Cal is aware of how pale she looks. The pressure bandage has already soaked through and Cal can hear one of the men noting she is going to need fluids before they take off. Cal gets a grip of himself and steps forward to grab one corner of the body board. The paramedic that isn't forcing Gillian to breath gives Cal a mild surprise expression, like he wonders where he came from, and then a sharp nod, it's ok for him to be there.

They stagger outside, not because Gillian's dead weight is heavy, but because the turns through the doorways are narrow and Cal is afraid they are taking too long. They load her onto the gurney and the cop wanders off to communicate through his radio again. The paramedics continue to work on Gillian and Cal has to stop himself from suggesting they hurry up. They insert a needle into her arm and hook up a bag of saline solution. They strap her down. They change out the bandage on her wound and take a better look at the gash. And all the while Cal hovers around wishing they would hurry up.

The rain has stopped and the only sounds of the world still carrying on in oblivion to the gut-wrenching panic Cal feels is the rush of water cascading recklessly down the drains. Water drips off of everything, trees, vehicles, the cop's hat, the ambulance with its rotating red light, Cal's shaking hands... He thinks it's probably blood and wipes his fingers without looking onto the back of his jeans. The paramedics push Gillian in to the back of the bus and Cal moves forward to ride along too. "Sir wait! I'm going to need to take your statement."

"We need to leave," the paramedic speaks up as he closes one of the doors on his partner, still squeezing that bag gently, and Gillian, still unconscious.

Cal digs out a card from his wallet, his fingers clumsy in his haste and hands it over; his silent way of saying 'this is how you can find me'. A second police car arrives. The first cop is torn and the fact that everything is happening so quickly is on Cal's side. The cop lets him go. Cal climbs into the back of the bus and settles next to Gillian's hip. The back door is slammed and the paramedic slips into the driver's seat a moment later and starts up the engine. Cal takes Gillian's hand and it's so cold he's startled. They take off, the siren wailing out through the night and the paramedic in the front on his radio, definitely with the hospital. They're from Georgetown University and Cal knows that it's a ten minute drive.

'_Hold on_,' he urges his pale faced best friend silently. He caresses her hand, her blood having dried sufficiently enough on him to be sticky now. Cal notes the paramedic is wearing latex gloves. His hand doesn't cease to squeeze that bag and now there are tabs on her chest to monitor her heartbeat. He watches the screen then glances at Cal.

"What's her name?"

"Gillian," Cal croaks. "She gonna be all right?"

"She's lost a lot of blood by the look of it."

'_No shit_,' Cal thinks and wonders how long she was there, alone, bleeding by herself.

"Do you know her blood type? She'll need an immediate transfer once she gets to the hospital."

Cal shakes his head. He should know that right? She was his closest friend. She was family.

"Tell me about her," the paramedic urges, his eyes shifting to the heart monitor again.

Cal has no idea where to start.

"Shit," the paramedic suddenly mutters. Cal could see his name tag on the front of his jacket. "She's crashing again!" K. Reube called to the front. Cal felt the ambulance start to slow.

"No! Don't stop. Give me the bag," Cal stood, doubled over and moved towards Gillian's head. He practically ripped it out of Reube's hands. Reube didn't argue with him. He told the guy in front to keep driving. Cal kept up a steady squeeze of the bag, surprised at how little resistance there was in it. Reube told him to slow down and Cal obliged. The paramedic reached for a syringe in a drawer and ripped open the packet. He pushed it into Gillian's IV lock and then stuck two pads to Gillian's chest. He powered up the defibrillator in the back. Cal felt like crying.

Reube told Cal to let go and gave Gillian a low shock. It barely shifted her off the bed. The monitor started to beep out a steady rhythm again. Cal reached for the bag again and started squeezing away. He saw something drop onto Gillian's peaceful face and realised he _was_ crying. His heart was pounding so wildly he had never felt it race like this in all his life. A stray thought about Gillian looking as though she was death warmed up... he mentally kicks himself.

"Shit, there's a bloody tree down!" Driving paramedic suddenly cusses annoyed.

"Go around," Reube suggests abruptly, he is listening to Gillian's heart now.

"I can't. I'm going to have to double back."

"She doesn't have time for doubling back!" Reube calls to the front while checking Gillian's eyes with his light again. It's almost as though Gillian looks at Cal and for a micro-second he feels that relief wash through him in a comforting wave. But he is wrong. She continues to lie there, jostling slightly from the motion of the ambulance. Dark marks have already appeared under her eyes. The wind has picked up again and it whips violently around the vehicle as they drive, bullying it as it tries to make its way to salvation.

"Storm must have brought it down."

Reube checks the pad at Gillian's back and presses a fresh one against the wound. This time he holds on to it. "She needs blood. Radio ahead and tell them to get a transfusion ready."

"I'm oh negative," Cal finds his voice stuck to the back of his throat.

Reube looks at him with dark eyes. "I can't do a live transfusion. Your blood would have to be screened."

"I had an annual check up two weeks ago," Cal could feel the ambulance making a wide three point turn. "Clean bill of health." Reube looks hesitant. "She's going to die isn't she? Without it. Or you can let me donate right now and save her," Cal urges. His throat burns with the effort.

"I could get into serious trouble."

"And she could die!" Cal exclaims. His hands start shaking with renewed panic. "Please. I'm begging you. Don't let her die."


	5. Chapter 5

**Act Four**

"Dad! I've been worried sick! I've tried ringing you and ringing you," Emily trails off abruptly, her eyes widen as she gets closer. "You're covered in blood!"

"It's not mine," Cal offers lamely. He can see himself in his mind's eye, standing in front of his reflection in the glass of a hospital waiting room. His shirt is soaked and even his jeans where he knelt in the crimson puddle, not to mention the sides, where he had attempted to wipe his hands. He had washed his hands as soon as he got the chance but as he paced around waiting for Gillian to go into surgery he finally caught a glimpse of all of him. And he didn't like what he saw at all.

"Oh my god what happened?" Ria is right behind her.

"Gillian," Cal manages before his throat closes off and tears burn his eyes like acid.

"It was the same guy wasn't it?" Emily is crying openly. Ria wipes a cheek.

Cal nods. He composes himself, shuts down that grief that is now compounded twice over. Not yet. There wasn't time for that yet. "She's in surgery." He guides his daughter back to his office gently, because he really wants to get out of his clothes. He's all ready pulling his shirt off as he steps through the doorway.

"Why didn't you call me?" Emily asks him gently.

"I've lost my phone," Cal answers hollowly, heading for his study where there's a change of clothes. He pulls on a clean shirt.

"Is she going to be ok?" Ria follows along.

"They're confident." Cal isn't. He's scared. Has never been so scared in his life. He replaces his jeans. When he's changed Emily reaches out and hugs him tightly.

"What happened to your elbow?" Ria asks.

Cal remembers the cotton bud covering his open vein. He rips it off and tosses it in the rubbish. "I gave blood." He turns to Ria. "I need you to get Loker around to Gillian's place and talk to the cops. And I think I left my phone there." She gives a nod and reaches for the phone on his desk.

"Have you eaten today?" Emily asks Cal.

He shakes his head. It's late, but he has no idea of the hour. "I don't have time."

Emily takes his sleeve and drags him back through the corridor to the break room. "You have to eat Dad. Your blood sugar will be low. If you don't eat you could pass out." She forces him into a chair and raids the fridge.

Cal checks his watch. He couldn't sit around the hospital waiting for the surgery to be over, he wasn't one to twiddle his thumbs, but he was certainly going to be back there in time for Gillian to wake up. He would camp out if he had to. He doesn't want to think about something going wrong while he isn't there.

Emily makes Cal a sandwich while he tells Ria about the message he had overheard on the answering machine here at the office. Loker rings to say he talked the police into giving him Cal's phone. The back door had been forced open. Miller was there and he was conceding that Gillian perhaps wasn't their chief suspect anymore.

"Well that's big of him," Cal comments snidely while feeling guilty as hell. He finishes his snack and Emily gets up to clear his plate and he figures that doing something is actually helping her to feel better. He knows he has a hard time sitting idly by. "I'm going back to the hospital."

"I'll meet you there," Loker volunteers. "And uh," he lowers his voice slightly. "Miller wants to talk to you right away."

"Tell him to meet me there too," Cal suggests.

"Can I come?" Emily asks.

Cal sighs. "Sweetheart. I don't want to have to worry about you too. It's safer for you here. There are locks on the doors with alarms."

"Do you think he's going to come after me too?" Emily's eyes are wide.

"No," Cal speaks gently. "No I don't. But I'd feel better knowing you're here and safe and with Torres."

"Call me as soon as you know anything."

Cal kisses the top of her head. "Promise." He gives her a quick hug. "Torres," he indicates he wants her to follow him. They head towards the entrance. "You get through those files and find me something to work with," he threatens in a low voice.

Ria nods.

_Establishing shot: Hospital. Night._

Miller is waiting for Cal at the hospital. He starts with asking Cal what happened and then he asks for an alibi.

"You are kidding me?" Cal questions in disbelief. He rolls his eyes heavily and huffs and exaggerates his shock. "You think I stabbed her? Are you insane?" He steps in close to the detective. "No really are you? Cos I know a good shrink who can sort your head out for you," and he gestures obnoxiously in Miller's face.

The detective gives him a bland expression. "Where were you?"

"If my ex-wife wasn't dead and my best friend wasn't lying in there battling for her life, I'd have a right laugh about now," Cal says evenly.

"_Your_ ex-wife. _Your_ business partner." Miller raises his eyebrows. "So give me a reason not to suspect you."

"How about the threatening phone calls? You find them on Gill's phone too?"

Miller's eyes widen in surprise.

"So you did, which means this guy is working through a list of some sort," Cal muses as dread settles in his stomach amongst the anguish and guilt. "I was at the office. There are time stamped security cameras there to verify," he shoots at Miller and walks further down the corridor where Loker is staring into Gillian's recovery room.

"Man she looks so vulnerable," Loker speaks as if he is in awe. "In real life she's spirited..."

"There were threats made on Gillian's phone too," Cal tells him softly. "Go check it out. And get me a list of possible suspects from our case files. I got a feeling this is personal."

Loker gives him wide eyes. "You reckon whoever this is has a grudge against you?"

"Don't let Emily leave the building. Under any circumstances. I don't want you to let her out of your sight. You hear me?" Cal uses his threatening voice again. Not that he would think Loker would do anything that stupid...

"Right," Loker backs up and moves away and Cal finally turns towards Gillian's room. The door is open and so he steps in. She's covered by a sheet only and it's tucked under her arms tightly so he can see the swell of her breasts outlined perfectly. She's lying slightly on her left side, facing the door and Loker is right, she does seem very vulnerable. The ventilator machine pumps out a steady rhythm, juxtaposed against the beeping of the heart monitor. The IV lines run into her neck. Her eyes are closed and the dark marks underneath them are deep shadows now in the soft lighting.

Cal walks over to the bed and takes her hand gently. It's cold and that's so unlike her; she's usually so warm. Cal smoothes his other hand against her cheek. "I'm here sweetheart," he tells her gently and pulls up a chair to wait. He strokes her hand and is rewarded by a fluttering of her eye lids. A minute later and he would have missed her.

"Gill," he calls to her gently. She takes a sudden deep breath against the ventilator and it makes a squeaking noise in protest. Her eyes shoot open in panic and her fingers suddenly tighten around Cal's. "It's all right," he's on his feet, soothing tone and smoothing fingers. "It's all right. Don't fight it. Its helping you breathe. You're in the hospital. And you're going to be fine."

The panic fades but the question remains.

"You were attacked. Do you remember?"

Gillian gives her head a slight shake 'no'.

"You were stabbed," Cal tells her very, very gently. Her fingers tighten against his. "But you're all right. You're going to be fine. And you'll have a wicked cool scar to show off." What's wrong with him? Joking at the worse possible times. He swallows hard and clamps a lid down on the thought of what would he be laughing about if he'd lost her too?

A machine takes nice and steady breaths for Gillian but she doesn't loosen her grip on him. She stares at him for a long time and Cal finds himself staring back into her pale blue eyes. "Did you see him Gill?" Cal breaks the silence. Her eyes widen in fear before she can even nod. "You'd recognise him?"

She nods firmer this time.

"I'm going to bring you pictures."

She nods more certainly than before.

Cal leans in and kisses her forehead. "Good girl."

_Lightman house. Early morning._

A silent and empty house. Dirty dishes are in the kitchen sink. A gust of wind rattles the pane of glass in the window. A neighbourhood dog barks. The phone rings. It rings and rings and then the answering machine picks it up. Emily's voice: "Hey you've reached Doctor Lightman and Emily Lightman and we're clearly not answering the phone. Leave a message if you dare!"

"This is a message for Emily Lightman. You're next."

_Hospital corridor._

"Tell me you have something and I'm not going to have to advertise for the position of lab monkey and supposed natural?" Cal paces as he talks.

"Uh, we've got a list," Loker starts.

"Top ten, go," Cal interrupts.

Ria starts to list off names and what their cases were about and why they might have a personal vendetta against him. Cal doesn't remember half of the names or cases. He turns in his pace, impatient. "You got pictures?"

"Uh of..."

"The bad guy," Cal interrupts. "Foster is awake and she saw his face."

"I'll email them to you," Loker suggests.

"How is Doctor Foster?" Ria asks sounding concerned.

"Good. Is Em there?"

"Uh she's asleep right now," Loker answers.

"All right. Any phone calls?"

"No. Nothing," Ria speaks up.

"Back soon," Cal hangs up. Almost immediately his phone chimes with an incoming email. He downloads the attachment and sneaks back into Gillian's room. She has her eyes closed and Cal wonders if she is awake or asleep. Hard to tell with the ventilator forcing her breath. He takes her hand again, prepared to wait it out if she's resting but her eyes open almost immediately. "Hey," Cal gives her a gentle smile.

Gillian's face is void of movement. The ventilator tube obscures her mouth and sedatives obscure her eyes. But she squeezes his hand and Cal's pleased to feel that even two hours after waking up from the anaesthetic she's much stronger all ready.

"How you doing?" Cal asks her. "You in pain? Can I get you something?"

Gillian gives a slight shake of her head.

"Was that 'no' to all my questions?"

She nods.

"One at a time then?" Cal suggests.

Gillian nods again.

"Your little worker ants have some ideas about who might have done this," he watches her face carefully. She nods. He brings his phone up and shows her the first image. He watches for her reaction even though she shakes her head 'no'. She's adamant. He shows her the next photo, making sure his phone is in her line of sight and she doesn't have to move to see. That one is also a 'no', as are the next three but the sixth one makes her hesitate. Her eyes widen slightly in fear and she nods. "You're sure?" Cal asks her, keeping the photo in front of her face. Gillian squeezes her eyes shut and nods again as she opens them. Her grip tightens on his hand. "All right darling."

Cal quickly opens a text message and types just two words before sending it to Loker. He tucks his phone back into his pocket. Gillian is watching him again, a question in her eyes. "What's on your mind love?" Cal asks her, leaning in closer to her. He wishes she could talk to him. He has something he desperately needs an answer for. Gillian stares up at him and she takes another sudden breath against the ventilator. But Cal has no idea what she wants or what she means and he has so many places he could start and whittle down the answer but he doesn't have time. "I have to go," he tells her gently. "Bad guy to catch and all." He goes to walk away but she doesn't let go of his hand. He turns back to her and he can almost hear her asking him to just ask her. "Gill," he starts and then wants to chicken out and run. She gives him a slight nod. How does she even know what he'll say? "Will you forgive me?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Act Five**

It's dark. There are only a few lights on. The Lightman Group sign is lit up like it always is but the corridors are deserted. Cal sits in his office. He has a cold sweat going on and his throat is dry and even though there's a glass of scotch on the desk in front of him, he hasn't touched a single drop. He's overly aware of his gun in his safe and knows he can get to it in two minutes flat but what makes him nervous is the fact that he might not have two minutes. Outside he can hear the wind whipping up a frenzy. It doesn't help to settle his heart.

"We've got movement on the west side of the building," a voice in Cal's ear warns. His stomach tightens. "Tall figure, wearing black. He's heading for the entrance."

Cal leans over to his computer to bring up the security cameras on the entrance. He can see the shadowed silhouette of a figure behind the glass door. He swallows hard, glances towards his safe again. He's not allowed to use the gun. He's meant to stall the bastard so the police can rush in and protect him. But Cal's dubious and that is why he's nervous. He straightens up in his chair as the figure tries the door and finds it unlocked. He waits for the man to come inside. He looks up for security cameras. The lights don't glow red to give away if they're on or not. Cal gets a clear shot of his face.

"It's him," he confirms and then gets up. He rips out his ear piece as a chorus of authority starts up and leaves it on his desk in the dark with distaste. He doesn't like this plan and he didn't really want to be part of it in the first place. He picks up his mug of scotch and heads out of his office like he's casually heading for the break room, like he would do on any other late night in the office. Each footstep is taken on legs like jelly.

It's eerie how quiet the building is. Cal struts along at his usual gait. He's waiting for something to happen and yet he's still not prepared for the large weight that slams against him. The mug flies out of his grasp and smashes on the ground a meter away. Cal falls heavily and manages to place a hand under his head so it doesn't strike the ground. He grunts slightly as air is partially knocked out of him. A searing pain shoots across his arm as he quickly gets to his feet again. He'd shoot the fucker right now if he had his gun in his hand. Which is probably exactly why the police wouldn't let him have it.

"Get up," Cal challenges, breathing heavily and lowering his weight into a fighting stance. The figure gets to his feet. "Leonard," Cal spits. Anger surges through him. He can feel something trickling down his arm. The light of his name lit up on the wall casts deep shadows. Cal can't read the man's face but he sure as shit can read his body language. He is leaning forward, knife in hand pointed right at Cal; he oozes anger and aggression.

"Come on then," Cal challenges. "Cops are on their way."

Leonard charges before Cal has even finished talking. "You and me," Cal manages before taking the partial charge in his sternum. He falls back heavily. He has no idea which way is up or where the knife is and for a second he is panicked blind. Leonard is a big guy and he's strong, but more importantly he's armed. Cal struggles. But then the lights come on and he's blinking and he realises that the warm puddling across his torso is blood and it's spreading rapidly while is heart continues to bang against his chest, begging for Cal to finally listen to it and run for once, instead of staying to fight.

_Establishing shot: Gillian's apartment. Day._

"You cleaned up in here?"

"Yeah," Cal admits from the doorway. Being back there now gives him uneasy memories. The bloodstain has been steam cleaned out of the carpet and the sheets stripped from the bed. "Well, I got someone to clean up."

"And fix the locks."

"And the window I broke. The least I could do."

"I read the police report," Gillian notes casually. "Was it you? That startled him and made him run off without finishing?"

"No. I was on my way over," Cal shakes his head. The fact that she's talking so clinically, as if this has happened to someone else, makes him uneasy.

Gillian turns to him slowly and carefully. She has been standing and observing her bedroom too. Cal searches for signs on her face that she's uncomfortable but, what she does, is give him a slight smile. "You don't have to feel guilty Cal. It's not your fault."

Cal shifts on his feet. He avoids her eye.

"Come here," Gillian demands. "Don't make me come to you," she warns. Her body is broken, but not her spirit. Cal dutifully goes to stand in front of her. She takes his hands and he's compelled to look her in the eye. "Heinzmann was not your fault. You had no way of knowing he would snap and act on a personal grudge."

"But he didn't take it out on me," Cal argues gently. "He took it out on you. And Zoe, and Em. Hard to not feel a little bit guilty about that."

"He knew how to hurt you the most," Gillian adds quietly. "Getting to your daughter."

"You'd still have a full set of lungs if it wasn't for me," Cal is self-depreciating.

"I'll be fine," Gillian supplies in answer. "I am fine." She watches him carefully. "But that's not all?" She questions gently.

"If," Cal starts and hesitates. "I should never have doubted you love. You're my best friend. I'm an idiot. If I hadn't..."

"It's ok," Gillian tells him soothingly. "If you were in my position, and it had been Alec... I would have wondered about you too."

"But that would have been founded."

Gillian gives a slight laugh and immediately she's frozen up with pain. Cal feels worse. If he hadn't shut her out they might have solved this case faster and he might have had that gun ready and waiting for Heinzmann several days ago, here, in Gillian's apartment. She wouldn't be in so much pain now, with a section of her lung missing.

"Come and stay with me," Cal urges. They're still holding hands and its comforting him in a way she has no idea how profound. She also has no idea how much it scared him to think of her here alone while she was so vulnerable. The thought of not having the chance to beg her forgiveness makes him feel sick. She looks unsure and so Cal plays his next card. "I need help. With Emily. I have no idea how to help her through this or how to be there for her. She needs her Mum. Or at least a damn good surrogate female role model."

Gillian gives him a slightly disparaging expression. "Just for Emily's sake." She pauses and Cal can see she has lied. "There's a bag in the top of the closet. Can you reach it for me?"

_Establishing shot: Lightman house. Evening._

Cal knocks on the bathroom door. The voices inside stop. "Yes?" Emily calls out.

"Just wondered if you need anything?"

"No," Emily answers indignantly. The door opens a second later and she's standing there in the gap. Cal jerks his thumb in a 'get lost in that direction' gesture. Emily rolls her eyes at him. Cal grabs her shoulder and forcibly pulls her. As the door opens wider Gillian is revealed standing in front of the mirror. Her hair is wrapped up in a towel and she is in pyjamas.

"Feeling better?" Cal asks.

"If I can't have an actual shower, clean hair certainly helps with the illusion."

Cal's not sure what to say so he just nods.

"Can I ask for your help with something? Seeing as you sent my assistant away."

"Sure," Cal steadfastly ignores the implication of her statement.

"Before I go to bed I need to change the dressing. But I can't actually reach."

"Sure," Cal agrees before stepping over the threshold and into the bathroom. Then he stands helplessly.

Gillian has medical supplies assembled. "Might be easier to take my shirt off," she suggests.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you to say that," Cal teases before he realises what he's doing. Gillian rolls her eyes. Cal can see her reflection in the mirror. He steps up behind her and reaches for the loose t-shirt. He pulls it over her head gently and keeps his eyes glued to her back, just in case. He helps slip her right arm out of the sleeve and Gillian holds the material in front of her. Cal pulls the tape off her back. The wound is just a few inches wide but it was deep. It's still weeping, probably because she's been moving around and the dressing is dirtied with her blood.

"You know, I spoke to the paramedics who responded."

"Oh?" Cal asks nonchalantly. He throws the old dressing away and reaches for the antiseptic cream that should keep the wound free of bugs. He uses a cotton bud to apply it carefully to the ugly black stitches.

"They said your actions saved my life."

Cal gives a shrug. What wouldn't he have done to save her? He chucks the cotton bud too.

"Thank you," Gillian adds.

Cal nods absently. He rips open a fresh dressing and presses it gently to her back, just under her right shoulder blade. He tapes it to her skin, pressing the sticky side to her flesh firmly. A nice tidy excuse to touch her.

"Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we just call it even?"

Cal looks up to find her watching him in the mirror. Her blue eyes are wide and serious and he can see hurt and gratefulness in her expression. He nods. "Finished," he announces. He helps her insert her arm into the sleeve of the shirt again and then her head and pulls the material down carefully over her back.

"Would you like me to help you change your dressing?"

Cal gives a slight smile but doesn't answer. The cut he had received in his tousle with Heinzman was not much more than a scratch, butterfly stitches only and they were already gone, he was almost already healed. The bandage on his arm is just a formality now. They leave his bathroom together and track across his bedroom and into the room opposite his. Emily's bedroom door is open slightly. "Good night!" She calls out.

"Night Em," Gillian's voice isn't as forceful. She moves onto the bed with careful movements and lies more on her left side, like she was in the hospital.

Cal leans in to tuck her in, making sure her back is covered completely and there are no gaps. He gives her forehead a kiss. "Sweet dreams darling."

"Cal?" Gillian reaches out to stop him from leaving. She tugs his hand back towards her, then shifts it to his shoulder and pulls on that too until he's leaning over her. Her hand moves to the back of his head and she presses her lips against his for several seconds. It's longer than a 'friendship kiss' but chaste enough to leave Cal unsure. Gillian gives him a brilliant smile as she lets him go. "Sweet dreams."

**PJPJPJPJ**

_AN: this was a Dr Callian challenge but it was a Muse collaboration so my thanks go to both of those beautiful women, for their inspiration, encouragement and friendship. Particularly muse who sat up until 3am four days in a row with me while I wrote away. Also, the Doc's challenge was the murder storyline; my own personal challenge was to write it like an actual episode of the show. I'm interested in perusing the format (if anyone is interested in reading it that is); so if you have ideas for an 'episode' jump on the forum and let me know._

_Thank you for all your reviews and support. I was nervous about this story for the subject matter. I wasn't sure how well it would be received. So thank you for letting me know how you felt about it and I'm glad you loved it!_

_Read you around..._

_PJ_

_P.S. I love you Muse :)_


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